"Master," said Baruti, "I have been trying hard to recall some of the
other legends I used to hear when I was very small, and I now recollect
one, which is not very long, about Maranda, a wife of one of the Basoko
warriors, called Mafala."
Maranda's father was named Sukila, and he lived in the village of Chief
Busandiya. Sukila owned a fine large canoe and many paddles, which he
had carved with his own hand. He possessed also several long nets which
he himself also made, besides spears, knives, a store of grass-cloths,
and a few slaves. He was highly respected by his countrymen, and sat by
the chief's side in the council place.
As the girl grew to be fit for marriage, Mafala thought she would suit
him as a wife, and went and spoke of it to Sukila, who demanded a slave
girl, six long paddles ornamented with ivory caps, six goats, as many
grass-cloths as he had fingers and toes, a new shield, two axes, and two
field-hoes. Mafala tried to reduce the demand, and walked backwards and
forwards many times to smoke pipes with Sukila, and get him to be less
exacting. But the old man knew his daughter was worth the price he had
put upon her, and that if he refused Mafala, she would not remain long
without a suitor. For a girl like Maranda is not often seen among the
Basokos. Her limbs were round and smooth, and ended in thin, small
hands and feet. The young men often spoke about Maranda's light,
straight feet, and quick-lifting step. A boy's arm could easily enclose
the slim waist, and the manner in which she carried her head, and the
supple neck and the clear look in her eyes belonged to Maranda only.
Mafala, on the other hand, was curiously unlike her. He always seemed
set on something, and the lines between the eyebrows gave him a severe
face, not pleasant to see, and you always caught something in his eyes
that made you think of the glitter which is in a serpent's eye.
Perhaps that was one reason why Sukila did not care to have him for his
daughter's husband. At any rate, he would not abate his price one
grass-cloth, and at last it was paid, and Maranda passed over from her
father's house into that of her husband.
Soon after, the marriage Maranda was heard to cry out, and it was
whispered that she had learned much about Mafala in a few days, and that
blows as from a rod had been heard. Half a moon passed away, and then
all the village knew that Maranda had fled to Busandiya's house, because
of her husband's ill-treatment. Now the custom in such a case is that
the father keeps his daughter's dowry, and if it be true that a wife
finds life with her husband too harsh to be borne, she may seek the
chief's protection, and the chief may give her to another husband who
will treat her properly.
But before the chief had chosen the man to whom he would give her,
Mafala went to a crocodile--for it turned out that he was a Mganga, a
witch-man who had dealings with reptiles on land, as well as with the
monsters of the river,--and he bargained with it to catch her as she
came to the river to wash, and carry her up to a certain place on the
river bank where there was a tall tree with a large hole in it.
The crocodile bided his chance, and one morning, when Maranda visited
the water, he seized her by the hand, and swept her onto his back, and
carried her to the hiding-place in the hollow tree. He then left her
there, and swam down opposite the village, and signalled to Mafala that
he had performed his part of the bargain.
On the crocodile's departure Maranda looked about the hole, and saw that
she was in a kind of pit, but a long way up the hollow narrowed like the
neck of a gourd, and she could see foliage and a bit of sky. She
determined to climb up, and though she scratched herself very much, she
finally managed to reach the very top, and to crawl outside into the
air. The tree was very large and lofty, and the branches spread out
far, and they were laden with the heavy fruit of which elephants are so
fond [the jackfruit]. At first she thought that she could not starve
because of so many of these big fruit; then, as they were large and
heavy, she conceived the idea that they might be useful to defend
herself, and she collected a great number of them, and laid them in a
heap over some sticks she had laid across the branches.
By-and-by Mafala came, and discovered her high up among the foliage, and
after jeering at her, began to climb the tree. But when he was only
half-way up, Maranda lifted one of the ponderous fruit and flung it on
his head, and he fell to the ground with his senses all in a whirl and
his back greatly bruised. When he recovered he begged the crocodile to
help him, and he tried to climb up, but when he had ascended but a
little way, Maranda dropped one of the elephant fruit fairly on his
snout, which sent him falling backwards. Mafala then begged two great
serpents to ascend and bring her down, but Maranda met them with the
heavy fruit one after another, and they were glad to leave her alone.
Then the man departed to seek a leopard, but while he was absent
Maranda, from her tree, saw a canoe on the river with two young
fishermen in it, and she screamed loudly for help. The fishermen
paddled close ashore and found that it was Sukila's daughter, the wife
of Mafala, who was alone on a tall tree. They waited long enough to
hear her story, and then returned to the village to obtain assistance.
Busandiya was much astonished to hear the fishermen's news, and
forthwith sent a war-canoe full of armed men, led by the father, Sukila,
to rescue her. By means of rattan-climbers they contrived to reach her,
and to bring her down safely. While some of the war-party set out to
discover Mafala, the others watched for the crocodile and the two
serpents. In a short time the cruel man was seen and caught, and he was
brought to the river-side, bound with green withes. His legs and his
arms were firmly tied together, and, after the Basoko had made Maranda
repeat her story from the beginning, and Sukila had told the manner of
the marriage, they searched for great stones, which they fastened to his
neck; and, lifting him into the war-canoe, they paddled into the middle
of the stream, where they sang a death-chant; after which they dropped
Mafala overboard and he was never heard of more. That is all there is
of the story of Maranda.